General Zod Goes to Washington
by Anonymous Void
Summary: In the months before the 2014 congressional elections, a new candidate announces his bid for the...presidency? The boys of South Park find themselves immersed in politics and the only thing that is certain is that everyone is taking a side. Zod for President 2014!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Been a while, I know but I was working on a different story that just didn't pan out. However, I had another idea I wanted to pursue and by its title alone, it needed to be done. Like in the vein of my previous story, _My New Best Friend_, the boys are going to be ten years old, like in the show, and pretty much this is going to try and be written like an episode of South Park. Another thing, the version of General Zod being used is the one from _Superman II_ as played by Terence Stamp. Essentially, Zod speaks in the third person. You can find a bunch of clips on Youtube if you're interested. Now, without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, death

Chapter 1

_Miscellaneous Launch Site, North Korea_

The missile was ready, their glorious country was ready, and their youthful and awesome Supreme Leader Kim Jong Un was ready. It was time for them at the miscellaneous and totally undiscovered launch site that they were absolutely sure the Americans had not found out to show what they were made of.

On the launch pad rested their nuclear weapon, a warhead that was targeted to hit America's west coast and show everyone that North Korea was not to be underestimated. They had firepower, they had honor, and more importantly they had balls. Not little ones like you would find in Japan, or as they called it on base "America's Bitch," but great big ones.

And nothing was ballsier than striking at the heart of America's imperial power: Hollywood.

If you could believe this, their great and glorious leader Kim Jong Un was _turned down_ for a role in a blockbuster action film. _Turned_. _Down_. This was unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. No, this was an insult to the North Korean people and North Koreans never took insults sitting down.

So while their great and glorious leader was being put down for naptime, they were preparing to launch a load of nuclear-powered whoop ass on those liberal and greedy Americans. This was going to show those heartless bastards that they weren't top dogs anymore.

The following dialogue has been subtitled so as to allow the standard non-Korean speaking American to understand what is being said.

"Commence countdown," a general of unknown rank ordered. From a large screen that captured the beauty of their nuclear payload sitting on the launch pad, everyone minus technicians watched as final adjustments to the rocket's trajectory was made.

Overhead a pleasant yet stern Korean woman's voice began to countdown starting from, _"Yeol. Ahop. Yeodeol."_

This was a momentous occasion, one that nobody on base wanted to miss. Unless they were absolutely integral to the launching process, the remaining North Korean technicians lifted their eyes up to see the large screen at the front of the room, sadly not plasma as that was fancy.

"_Ilgop. Yeoseot."_

A fellow North Korean officer joined the unknown ranked general. "Is everything ready?"

"Countdown has begun. Those American pigs wirr not know what hit them," the general replied as the countdown reached daseot.

"Grory to the Supreme Reader," the officer agreed.

"_Net. Set."_

The general straightened his shoulders at the moment that was at hand. Two more counts and they would be forever giving the United States the finger and nonverbally saying "suck our barrs!" Perhaps that should be incorporated into their Supreme Leader's address to the world community?

"_Dul."_

No prayers would be made here. Everyone here _officially_ had no religion.

"_Hana."_

Show time.

They all watched a plume of smoke erupted from beneath the rocket, watched with pride as it was fired off and up into the sky, going and going further and further away, higher and higher…and higher…and…higher.

Why was it going straight up?

As the seconds ticked up, it soon became obvious that they had had another launching malfunction. That missile wasn't heading to Hollywood, it was heading up into outer space…where it wouldn't do any harm.

"So…what do we do now?" the officer beside the general asked.

A burst of inspiration came to the general but at this point, he was trying to come up with _any_ reason how he could save his own neck from Kim Jong Un's ire. "Congraturations! This is North Korea's first successfur space shuttre! North Korea's crassified space program has its first success!"

Picking up the general's train of thought, the officer began to clap loud and fast, prompting the other people in the control room to do the same, more out of a sense of self-preservation than because they wanted to.

However, this story does not end with yet another embarrassment to North Korea in the making. It continues with the errant nuclear missile as it exited Earth's atmosphere and continued out into the vastness of space. It was programed to detonate upon impact but with nothing to impact with, the missile continued on and on without detonating.

That is until it came into contact with an odd, spinning, glass-like panel.

The blast was massive but short lived. Flames died as soon as they were birthed and all the radiation that spilt out was swallowed into the cosmos itself. No one would ever know this blast had occurred…at least no one on Earth.

As the remnants of the explosion faded away, something was left over, something that hadn't been there before. It was human by all appearances, clothed in black apparel, and sporting a connecting beard and mustache as well as the beginning stages of balding up top. Cold, blank, blue eyes gazed into the vastness of space, taking in the nothingness before turning towards the blue planet not far from his position.

As if determining that that was where he wanted to go, the masculine in appearance humanoid began his descent towards the planet and to the ignorant population that lived upon it.

* * *

It was a boring day in South Park, which was saying a lot. Usually there was something going on that was the very opposite of boring. Yet, today there was nothing going on which made it quite an unusual day.

If you judged this by the calm atmosphere of four certain boys, you wouldn't be able to tell that this indeed was a boring day.

"Did you guys know that when you have an aneurysm, your skull bursts open and your brains splatter all over the place?" a fat boy in a red coat and yellow poof ball hat spoke up.

"What?" a boy in a brown jacket with a red poof ball hat said more than asked, brow creasing in exasperation.

"That's not physically possible," a boy in an orange jacket and green ushanka stated.

"I'm totally serious, I saw it on TV last night," the fat boy declared. "It blew my mind. You see it was this bald guy in a suit, he's sitting in front of this room of people and there's this other guy sitting beside him making sex faces and then the bald guy has an aneurysm and his head blows up."

A boy in an orange parka piped up and though his voice was muffled, his words were translated as, "There's no fucking way."

"You said it Kenny," the boy in the brown coat and red poof ball hat agreed.

"Are you sure you weren't watching that movie _Scanners_, Cartman?" the boy in the orange jacket and green ushanka added.

"Of course not, Kyle," Cartman retorted. "It was an informative documentary about head stuff and everything. The guy who had an aneurysm even said what the symptoms of one was before his head exploded. Earaches, nausea, headaches, I think. There were others too."

"That sounds an awful lot like _Scanners_," Kyle said dubiously.

"You know what? I bet you ten bucks your brains explode all over the place when you have an aneurysm," Cartman dared.

As Kyle was about to reply, most likely to accept the bet, the boy in the brown jacket and red poof ball hat cut in. "Don't say anything Kyle. You know how this is going to go. Cartman says something that sounds ridiculous, no one believes him, he offers to bet ten bucks that it happens, and then by some weird coincidence, it happens and you owe him ten bucks. Don't do it."

"But Stan!" Kyle protested. "It's physically impossible for your head to explode by itself! And he most likely watched _Scanners_ last night and not some bogus documentary!"

"Kyle, face it, the world is out to screw you over. Don't do it," Stan warned him.

"Hah! You see? Even Stan says it's possible!" Cartman boasted. "But if you're so sure you're right, take the bet Kyle. If you're so right, then you can only gain here. You can gain ten bucks. Listen to your Jewishness, Kyle. Ten bucks. That's a lot of money for a money-grubbing Jew like you. You know you can't resist."

"Shut up, fatty," Kyle spat out.

"Oh boy, here we go," Stan rolled his eyes.

"Are you scared Kyle? Scared that I'm right and that you'll lose ten bucks?" Cartman taunted. "Not that I blame you since I am so obviously ahead of the curve. My genius knows no bounds, Kyle."

"Then why were you watching a show where someone's head explodes?" Kyle snarked.

"To stimulate my brains," Cartman huffed.

"What brains? You mean that pea in that cavern you call a head?" Kyle argued.

"I am rubber you are glue Kyle. You know what that means? Whatever you throw at me bounces off me and sticks to you. You, you gluey Jew. It sticks to you," Cartman said pretentiously, adding some finger pointing to emphasize his point.

"That arguments only for five year olds," Kyle deadpanned.

"But it doesn't make it any less true," Cartman quipped.

Some mumbles came from Kenny who had been silent the whole time. However, the boy was not paying any mind to the riveting conversation happening next to him. No, he was looking straight up at the sky and even took to raising his hand up to point.

"A shooting star? Those only happen at night, Kenny," Cartman scoffed. "Are you high again because—oh wow, a shooting star!"

Indeed, above the heads of these ten year old boys, something small and on fire darted across the sky, heading straight towards one of the mountains that encircled their little town. Even from where they stood, they could hear the small boom and a heartbeat later see the small trail of smoke that rose from the impact site.

"Whoa…I think it landed," Stan said with awe.

"We have got to check it out," Cartman said. "A shooting star has landed on Earth in broad daylight. What am I saying, we don't have to check it out, we _need_ to check it out. That way, tomorrow, we can go to school and tell everybody that we found a shooting star and then everybody's gonna be jealous and we'll be so cool."

"I'm not sure about that," Kyle said, trying to be the voice of reason for the group.

"It's going to be alright, Kyle," Stan said. "This is a once in a lifetime event! We really need to check it out. Come on!"

"That is a brilliant thing you said Stan. See Kyle, even Stan wants to check it out. But if you want to be a Negative Nancy and stay behind, you can show up at school tomorrow and be jealous like everyone else will be," Cartman said dismissively. "Now that I think about it, the awesomeness of this would probably give you an aneurysm and your brains will explode. It's best that you stay behind. That way your Jewness won't contaminate the awesomeness."

"Screw you, you fat asshole," Kyle glared at the clinically obese boy. "Fine, I'll come!" With that, Kyle took the lead as he marched off ahead of the other boys.

"You really know how to press Kyle's buttons," Stan remarked.

"Yeah, it's a gift, what can I say?" Cartman boasted.

* * *

It was very fortunate that the four boys found a gravel road when they did. It made it easier for them to make their way to where they believed the shooting star had landed. Also…

"You guys…I think we should have…stayed in town," Cartman huffed and puffed. Two much uphill walking was not good for someone who was totally fit like he was. He just hadn't…stretched first. Warmed up. Yeah, that was it. Cartman hadn't warmed up. A person with such a delicate body such as his needed a good warm up before doing so much physical activity.

"Come on Cartman. I think we're close," Stan said, not even showing a bit of sweat. Freaking weirdo.

"Now who's the Negative Nancy?" Kyle taunted.

Freaking Jew. "Shut up, Kyle! I'm just…concerned about Kenny is all." He may have needed to make something up but it was all to save face and—

Kenny walked past him without even looking at him, keeping up with the other two freakishly skinny assholes.

—ey! Get back behind him, you poor asshole! You're making him look bad!

Kenny spoke up, his words muffled but Cartman understood him all too clearly.

"Ey! My body is rippling fit and in perfect physical condition!" he argued.

"If by perfect you mean pathetic, then yeah, you totally are," Kyle piped up.

Before Cartman could make a totally awesome comeback that would have knocked Kyle's socks off, Stan exclaimed, "I see smoke up ahead! We're close!

Well about damn time! All this walking around was messing up his fab bod. Even though he didn't want to, Cartman increased his pace as the other three assholes did, wanting to also see the sure to be awesome shooting star before someone's, not going to say who, Jewness ruined it. If he could beat Kyle to seeing it first, he would be so ha—

The three assholes came to a stop and Cartman ended up running into them, causing him to stumble back but luckily not causing him to fall on his ass. See? Perfect physical condition!

"Watch where you're going tubby!" Kyle hissed at him.

"Well you shouldn't stop without warning a guy, sheesh!" Cartman retorted.

"Will you two knock it off? I think I see someone," Stan shushed them. "Kenny, go check it out."

"What? No way in hell am I checking it out," came Kenny's muffled response. "I might get killed!"

"There's no way you're going to get killed," Stan rolled his eyes. "Come on, don't you want to see the shooting star? What if someone already found it and is going to take our credit for it?"

"Let them have it," was Kenny's muffled retort.

"God, you're such a pussy," Cartman teased.

"What don't you go look?" was Kenny's muffled question.

"Because…uh…because the walk has made me really tired and I'm not on my A-game, Kenny. What if it's some guy who broke out of the insane asylum and he wants to kill the first person he sees? I'm so tired that I wouldn't be able to get away from him," Cartman reasoned.

"So much for being in perfect physical condition," Kyle taunted and that Jew was asking for it, wasn't he? "Hey, what's that?" Kyle asked as a continuous crunching sound came to their attention. It sounded like a car was heading their way.

A look back the way they came revealed a cop car was heading their way and that wasn't good. They were on private property and the last thing they needed was for some cop nark to nark on them to their parents.

"Oh man, it's Officer Barbrady," Stan moaned. "Quick, hide!"

The smartest thing that Cartman had heard to date. With all the trees and bushes around, it was easy for them to hide, Cartman throwing himself behind one of said bushes and waiting as Barbrady's car passed by. Man, this was annoying. And lame. An adult was going to see the shooting star first! Major lame!

There was tension as the police car rolled up to then passed by them, the four of them peeking their heads out to keep an eye on the car, making sure that they hadn't been spotted yet. Why did an adult cockblock, whatever that was, have to come now and rob him of his glory of seeing the dead ass remains of a shooting star? It wasn't fair!

The car pulled out of sight as it reached a turn in the road. Quickly, the three of them God-fearing Christians and Godless Jew scrambled out of their hiding places and returned to the road. Sharing looks with one another, they hurried after Barbrady but as soon as they reached the turn, they had to stop.

Barbrady hadn't gone very far and had stopped several years ahead. Had he found the shooting star? Son of a bitch! They had been so close too! Now all the newspaper articles with his picture in them and the endorsements that were sure to come were beyond these ten year olds' reach. So freaking close!

Barbrady pulled himself out of the car and much to the boys' confusion began saying out loud, "Alright everybody, there's nothing to see here. Go back to your homes."

Again they froze. Had Barbrady seen them? Wait, no, didn't look like it. Barbrady was not even looking towards them but straight ahead where the shooting star should be and man was there a lot of smoke. Now that Cartman was taking the time, he could see a bunch of trees were singed while others were knocked over, some of their roots exposed. Something had definitely crashed here.

Wait, if Barbrady was speaking to someone up ahead, that meant someone _else_ had found the shooting star! Fucking monkey balls! Who the hell had beaten them to it? Was it Craig and those guys? Oh, he was going to kick someone in the nuts for this! Hopefully Kyle's nuts but someone, no matter how it happened, was going to have his size 6 shoe in their nads!

"Whose he talking to?" Stan asked in a hushed voice. Without waiting for an answer, their representative animal-loving hippie took the lead. Cartman found himself dead last, trailing after both poor boy and the Jew as they crept their way up to Barbrady's car.

Keeping out of sight, they snuck around the cop car's side and finally got a look at what had been blocked off from their sight only a moment ago.

Dead ahead stood some weirdo none of them had seen before and what was that outfit he was wearing? So freaking gay. He could see the queermo's chest from here! And that beard? Actually, the beard looked cool to Cartman. He was definitely going to have to grow one of those when he got older. Other than that, he was stupid looking, what with him standing there, legs apart and hands behind his back.

Odd how there was a lot of smoke behind him…

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't know what happened but this looks like…this looks like…what are they called again?" Barbrady attempted to take control of the situation but seemed to be having some problems there. "I know this one, I swear…learned all about it in the academy… Oh wait, I know! This looks like a movie scene! No, wait, that's not it."

The obviously homosexual man continued to stand there, trading Barbrady look for look though his was not as confused or…what was that word… right, stupid.

"Well, whatever it's called, I'm going to have to tell you to step away from it. This is now a police investigation," Barbrady continued, deciding to move on. "Leave now or I will be forced to arrest you for con…con…con…tam…in…atoring a crime scene. That's what it's called! A crime scene!"

"You dare tell Zod what he can or cannot do," the man spoke up. Oh wow, that sounded like butter to Cartman's ears, it was so smooth.

"Well, I'm a cop. If you don't listen to me, I'll have to arrest you," Barbrady shrugged.

Now, Cartman couldn't be sure but from where he was standing, he almost swore that this Zod guy's eyes were turning red. Which was purely ridiculous—

Two red beams of light shot from Zod's eyes and struck the lights on Barbrady's car, destroying them and sending sparks all over the place.

—holy shit!

Now, Cartman would deny this to his dying day, but something that did not sound anything like a manly shriek escaped his mouth…though he was more than willing to point out that everyone else screamed like little girls though Kenny was more muffled.

He didn't know what was going on but whatever it was, it was time to get the hell out of here! Then, Barbrady's car lifted up and off the ground, held up in the air by Zod who was gripping it with only one hand. Cold blue eyes gazed down on them dispassionately, freezing the four of them in their tracks.

"Zod is not amused. You bring children to fight Zod?" Zod demanded, eyes turning to glare at Barbrady.

"Hey…what are you kids doing out here?" Barbrady questioned, somehow overlooking the fact that some weirdo ass guy was holding his car in the air with a single freaking hand. "Aren't you supposed to be in school or something?"

"Look, we don't want any trouble," Stan spoke for the four of them, hands held up in surrender. That actually was a pretty good idea and Cartman copied him. If he looked helpless, perhaps he wouldn't get hurt. "We're just…uh…"

""We're camping!" Kyle exclaimed, trying to excuse them. "Really! Our camp is not far from here!"

"What Jew boy said!" Cartman agreed.

Zod's eyes were back on them. "What planet is this?" It was not asked as a question and after having to endure this man's gaze for a little too long, Cartman was more than willing to answer him.

"It's Earth!" he answered as quickly as possible. When he saw how the other three hippies were looking at him, "What? I just want to go home."

"Earth," Zod repeated, as if tasting the word. "It is decided. Zod shall conquer Earth and rule over the inferior Earthians."

"You can't do that," Kyle piped up, falling silent quickly as Zod glared at him. You couldn't tell it was a glare since Zod's facial features hadn't changed a bit this whole time but you just knew he had a problem with what Kyle had said.

"Are you telling Zod what he can and cannot do?" Zod intoned.

"It's just…you have to get elected first!" Kyle squeaked.

"Yeah!" Stan picked up. "We vote on Earth and stuff. No one will ever take you seriously if you don't get elected."

"They will take Zod seriously if Zod kills them," Zod stated.

"Well, okay, you got a point, but if you seize power, then you have to spend the rest of your life holding onto it," Kyle pointed out. "If people give you power, then you don't have to fight anybody off. And people are going to be more willing to do what you want them to do."

Zod paused. "Zod does not understand what you are telling him but it makes sense. Very well, Earthian child, when is the next election?"

Kyle looked at the rest of them but Cartman wasn't about to say anything. It was mostly from not knowing the answer himself but he wasn't about to say that out loud.

"I guess we could find out in town," Barbrady said.

"Then take Zod to this town," Zod ordered.

"Sure but you're going to have to put my car down," Barbrady answered. "It has a GPS thing in it that tells me where I am at all times. I wouldn't be able to find my way out of bed without it."

* * *

The citizens of South Park didn't pay any mind to the strange man in the weird black outfit. It was just another thing to see in an out of the way mountain town that hardly anybody willingly went to. On the plus side, that meant there was hardly any traffic.

That didn't change the fact that Kyle was nervous. He knew they shouldn't have gone off to find that shooting star. But he had to be manipulated into it like he always was. When was he ever going to learn?

With some weird, alien megalomaniac ordering them around, Kyle wasn't willing to redirect the man's ire to him. Then again, he couldn't tell if this man was angry. He had that impassive look on his face as if he was telling the world he wasn't impressed with it. That face was practically granite as they stood in front of the local electronics store, watching the display of TVs as they were going over the who's who of who was currently running for office.

Since it was 2014, it was only congressional elections that nobody really paid attention to. The presidential election had been over for quite some time so yeah, this Zod guy's timing couldn't have been any worse. If he wanted to run for president, he was going to have to wait until 2016 before he could.

"Zod does not know what he is watching but it is annoying Zod," Zod said.

"That's how most people are after an hour of watching politics," Stan said.

"Are any of these people of importance?" Zod demanded.

"Well, most of them are state and local level," Kyle explained. "Only like seven of them are important but they're senators and representatives."

"Zod does not represent anyone but himself," Zod said. "Who is the most important Earthian here?"

"It's not Earthian, it's human," Kyle corrected.

"Are you correcting Zod?"

"No, I'm just…telling you what we humans call ourselves," Kyle backpedalled. Sheesh, for a second there, Zod's eyes were glowing again. He didn't want to think of what would happen to him is those red laser beams were shot at him.

"That is a stupid name, human. Earthian tells the rest of the universe that you are from the planet Earth. Human means absolutely nothing. It would be like calling a Kryptonian a Slor," Zod ranted.

"I totally get where you're coming from," Cartman said. "Calling ourselves human? That's stupid. You know who you should take this up with? Obama."

"And who is this Obama?" Zod inquired, his attention now on Cartman.

"Why, he's the president," Cartman answered. "He's the most important Earthian even though he's black and had to have stolen the last election because when have black people never stolen something?"

"He was elected fair and square," Kyle cut in, glaring at the fat boy. "Just because you have some grudge against him doesn't mean you have to blame him for everything."

"But he promised us change and where is it?" Cartman demanded. "Tell me Kyle. I would love to know where all his change is."

Kenny spoke up, his voice muffled.

"What did he say?" Zod said, not asking because apparently this guy didn't ask questions.

"He said Obama's change is in his front pocket. Where else would it be?" Stan translated.

"Oh ha, ha, Kenny, you must think you're so smart," Cartman mocked.

"Silence," Zod ordered. All four of them shut their mouths. "This Obama Earthian is the human who was elected to be in charge of your planet?"

"Actually, it's more like the nation we're in," Kyle answered helpfully.

"Don't mind him, the Jew over there is really into technicalities," Cartman said. "Pretty much, Obama is in charge of the planet, even if he is a black man."

"Very well then, Zod has decided," Zod said. "From this moment, Zod declares his candidacy for president. When is the soonest Zod can be elected?"

"I think in two years?" Kyle said hesitantly.

"Two years? That is way too long. Zod shall run for president in this election cycle," Zod declared.

"Oh boy," Stan uttered and it was obvious that he couldn't come up with anything better to say. Kyle admitted, though, that his best friend's words summed up the situation. Maybe not perfectly but it was a good try.

But then, someone who happened to be passing by as Zod made his declaration decided to stop and face the oddly-dressed man. "Sorry, but I heard you say that you would be running for president. You're going to have to wait two more years buddy."

"Are you telling Zod what he can and cannot do?" Zod asked in that tone of voice that made it obvious that he wasn't asking anything.

"Look, I'm just trying to tell you how it is. You have to wait like everybody else for the presidential election. It's only the congressional ones that nobody cares about," the passerby said and Kyle winced. The guy sounded explanatory but he wasn't doing or saying anything that might pacify Zod's anger.

"You mock Zod," Zod stated.

"No, that's pretty much the way it is. It's not like you can change how we've been doing things all by yourself," the guy said.

Zod's eyes narrowed, glowing with an eerie red light that didn't look like anything natural. Oh crap, he was about to—

Twin laser beams blasted from Zod's eyes and nailed the man he was speaking with in the head. There were odd sounds screeching from the man's mouth as his head began to swell bigger and bigger, turning a pinkish-red color before exploding and sending bits of brain and tissue all over the place. Some of it splattered onto his orange coat but Stan ended up with more on him seeing as how he was closer to the now dead man.

There was silence on the street, everyone's attention captured at the horrific sight. The only one who seemed completely unfazed was none other than Zod who had that same bland expression on his face though there was a hint of something, superiority, embedded in those facial muscles.

Suddenly, a woman cried out, "Did you see that? That man just had an aneurysm!"

…what?

"See!" Cartman crowed. "You owe me ten bucks, Kyle!"

"I don't owe you shit! We never bet!" Kyle snarled back, completely letting the horrific death of another human being slip his mind. For the time being, at least.

"Now that Zod has your attention, listen well," Zod announced. "I, General Zod, am announcing my candidacy to be your next president during the current election. Zod expects you all to participate in the electoral process and choose General Zod as your next ruler."

Silence fell upon the city street as the citizens of South Park stared at Zod. One could only hope that no one was going to question this man.

"Is it primary season already?" someone asked.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Next chapter and things are starting up. I'm not entirely satisfied with it but hopefully it'll do for now. If anyone is paying attention to the character filter, you can see that Randy's name is there. So, as you can imagine, things are going downhill from this point on. It's Randy Marsh, what did you expect? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park. Any public and political figures mentioned are fictional and their portrayals are done poorly.

Warning: language, death

Chapter 2

Sitting behind the news desk, a mustached, professionally dressed and groomed man stared directly into the camera that was recording his every word and motion. Lights lit up the set, various shades of blue coloring the backdrop of the set while the opaque-color desk hid the newsanchor's lower half from sight.

"_Everybody has been talking about it from in-crowds in New York to the underbelly of the Internet. Since his announcement last week, this man, General Zod, has said that he will be running for the presidency during the 2014 congressional elections. Debate has raged ever since._

"_On one side, liberal pussies have whined and complained that he can't do that and that it violates over two hundred years of electoral tradition. When pressed for further comment, they whined, bitched, and complained but did absolutely nothing about it. On the other side, conservative rednecks have also pointed out that never before has anyone been allowed to run for the Oval Office in the middle of an ongoing term. However, because Obama is in office, they don't really have a problem with it. It would be different if it was a Republican but since it's a pussy Democrat, they're behind the bid 98%._

"_The man behind all of it, General Zod, so far has kept himself out of the debate. Instead, he has been ignoring pretty much everyone as his bid picks up steam. So far he has not announced which party he is going to represent and has remained a no-chance-at-winning independent._

"_In other news, rates of aneurysms have increased…"_

Stan continued to watch the news program even though he gave absolutely no sign of being interested in it. To be honest, he would rather be doing something more exciting and fun but his lame-ass dad had decided that he needed another lesson in the American electoral process. Speaking of which, said lame-ass dad, also known as Randy Marsh, was seated further down on the couch, the complete opposite of his son.

Already, Stan had a feeling that things were about to go crazy because whenever his dad got involved with something, craziness always followed and there was really nothing he could do about it. Didn't mean he had to like it but still, for once could something stay normal?

"You see this, Stan?" his father spoke up, his bushy, black mustache rising and falling with each word he spoke. "This is what politics is all about. We're about to get into some real shit soon."

"Dad? Can I go up to my room?" Stan asked blandly.

"No Stan, this is important!" Randy answered. "We got some upstart lunatic trying to take on Washington and it's going to be awesome to watch. This is something you're going to remember for the rest of your life."

Stan stared at his father for a moment. "You do know he's an alien, right?"

"What are you saying, Stan?" Randy demanded with a passive tone, sitting up. "That this guy is an illegal immigrant and isn't eligible to run? Is that what you're saying, Stan?"

Okay, he didn't know where this was going. The tone of voice his father was using was a sign, a bad sign, of whatever potential shitstorm was coming this way. Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Then again…

"Look Dad, I'm just saying that we might want to be careful about this guy. I mean, what does anybody really know about this guy?" Stan tried to explain.

"I know enough," Randy said, sounding defensive.

"So what do you know about him?" Stan asked.

His father looked like he was ready to answer with some kind of retort but then…he fell silent as if figuring out that whatever his answer was, it wasn't a good one. Apparently another answer came to him as his father's mouth opened again only to close again as if discarding that one like the one before it.

"You really don't know anything about him, do you?" Stan stated. He pretty much knew that was the answer.

"Hey, it's not like you know who all the other people who are running are," Randy retorted, crossing his arms and looking away petulantly.

Stan was about to reply to that but then had to stop. For once his dad had a point. He didn't know who all the other people who were running for the House and the Senate and all that stuff. Where did they all come from? For all he knew, they all came from some other planet.

Heck, now that he thought about it, he didn't even know who was currently in office.

"_We've just received word that this mystery candidate, General Zod, is holding a press conference. It is set for…right now. Holy shit, that's right now. Do we have someone there to cover it? We do? Ladies and gentlemen, I now send you to our man in the field."_

The image on the TV flickered to a reporter who was facing away from a podium as he looked directly into the camera. Barely filled seats were located between him and the podium; due to the suddenness of the press conference, barely anyone had been able to show up.

"_Tom, I'm here at the recently announced press conference that presidential candidate Zod…last name unknown—hold on, something's happening. It looks like the press conference is happening _now_. Apparently, when Candidate Zod says now, it means now. As you can see there are not many reporters here outside of my colleagues from MSNBC and FOX. CNN is running late and they're—oh, he's starting."_

Stan swallowed as the image of Zod replaced that of the reporter on the scene. He had not been able to forget that mug and it seemed like he had only just seen it yesterday. Or an hour ago. Whatever. Needless to say he was a bit uncomfortable, unlike his father who was leaning closer to the TV as if to get a better look.

"_It has come to Zod's attention that many of you Earthians who call themselves Americans—for whatever trivial reason—have expressed dissatisfaction with Zod's candidacy. The most primary complaint Zod has heard involves the whereabouts of Zod's birth certificate. Zod does not see a reason why he must have a birth certificate in order to run for the executive office and does not care in the slightest about whatever inconsequential reasons you American Earthians have about Zod needing one._

"_Zod has been told that these press conferences, which do not include pressing of any sort, are to answer any questions that the rest of you American Earthians have for Zod. Zod now shows immeasurable patience by subjugating himself to your questions. Ask them now while you can. You, the one from the animal organization."_

"_FOX News,"_ the reporter corrected.

"_Are you correcting Zod?"_

"_Okay… My question is…where's your birth certificate. Only those of American citizenry can run for president and we need proof that you are a naturally born citizen."_

"_Zod thought he has already answered that question."_

"_But we all still want to know where it is and where it says you were born. That is the most important question that you'll ever be asked."_ The reporter explained.

Stan was totally not surprised when Zod fired those laser beams of his and caused the FOX News reporter's head to explode.

"_Does anybody else wish to know about this inconsequential birth certificate?"_

"_No."_

"_Nope."_

"_We're good."_

"_Very well. Are there any more questions that Zod must subject himself to answering? Yes, you from the random letter sequence organization."_

"_Uh…what are you going to do about political gridlock in Washington?"_ the reporter from MSNBC asked, being careful not to tread on proven fatal ground.

"_It is very simple. All those responsible for this gridlock will have to kneel before Zod. Otherwise they will be victims of Zod-induced aneurysms as you Earthians have begun to call them."_

"_Just like the guy from FOX?"_

"_Exactly."_ Zod's face gave the impression that he was completely serious about it. Stan could not find anything to argue against him.

"_Are there any other questions?"_ Zod asked, seemingly mild but his voice did have an edge to it. It was like he was daring the reporters to gamble with their lives. When there were no further questions, _"Zod shall now take his leave. Zod looks forward to participating in the practice of 'debating' and is ready to face all challengers."_

"Wow…" Randy Marsh exhaled loudly. "Did you see that? He's so…cool! So awesome! So cool and awesome and perfect!"

"Dad…" Stan sighed in exasperation.

"He's totally got my vote! Did you see how he handled those nosy reporters?" Randy was on all fours and in front of the TV. With one hand, he touched the portion of the plasma screen where Zod's face was. "If it was legal, I'd marry that man. He's so perfect."

"Oh my God…" Stan moaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's it, we need to get the word out," Randy declared as he stood up. "Come on, Stan! It's time for the Marsh's to become political! We're going out and we're spreading word about Zod! This man is going to save this country and we're going to help him!"

"No, Dad. No," Stan argued, glaring at his father. "I am not getting involved in this. Leave me out of it."

"Stan, you're coming with me and helping out to get Zod elected," Randy declared.

"No Dad!" Stan yelled back.

"You're going to help out, Stan. One way or the other, you're going to help," Randy stated, his tone of voice brooking no argument.

* * *

"Oh Goddamn it," Stan swore as he found himself standing next to a stand that his father had set up. There was red, white, and blue colored streamers, posters and flyers of Zod decorating not only the table his father was sitting behind but the wall behind him as well.

Stan himself was wearing two poster boards that were strapped together and hung both in front of him and against his back. Pasted on the poster boards was a copy of the various pro-Zod posters his father had tried to paste all over town. The one on his front was obviously a rip-off of an old Obama campaign poster with a red and blue back ground, and a red, white, and blue-faced Zod portrait. The bottom where you'd expect the word change or hope or whatever was not there at the moment as his father had yet to learn what the theme of Zod's campaign was.

That didn't stop his father was committing plagiarism and forcing the ten year old to walk up and down the sidewalk, saying, "Vote for Zod."

This was so freaking embarrassing.

"Vote for Zod, everybody!" Randy proclaimed. "He'll get this country back on track. You'll see! No more bogus change! This is a real change!"

Shut up, Dad. Don't call attention to yourself. Really. At this point, Stan couldn't think of this getting any worse.

"Stan? What are you doing?"

It just got worse. Damn it, why was his inner monologue tempting fate?

Stan's eyes flickered down towards the poster board sigh he was wearing then back up to Kyle. "Dude, this isn't what it looks like," he tried to excuse himself.

"Come on Stan! What are you doing? You don't have time to talk with your little friend! You gotta keep moving! Gawrl!" his father reprimanded him.

Both of the boys faced the direction Stan's dad had spoken from, neither saying a word for a moment. "Let me guess, your dad bought into all this," Kyle guessed.

"Is it that obvious?" Stan sighed his rhetorical question, his shoulders slumping. "I swear, it's like living with a little kid sometimes."

"But aren't you a little kid?" Kyle questioned.

"I'm supposed to be. He's a grown-up adult," Stan answered. "I gotta go back and help my dad make an idiot of himself. I'll tell you about it later."

"I could stay around if you want," Kyle offered.

"Nah, go home Kyle. This is going to be something you're going to want to stay away from," Stan said. "It's going to be super lame."

A loud commotion in the direction Stan last knew his dad to be in had the ten year old's heart pounding as loud voices reached his ears. By all accounts, it sounded like someone had gotten fed up with what his father was up to and was very vocal about it. His father was being very vocal right back at the other person. But who would be stupid enough to—

"Get this faggoty stuff off the sidewalk! It's all socialistic propaganda meant to brainwash us hard working Americans!" your traditional-looking redneck stereotype roared at the only person who Stan believed deserved the Darwin Award. Blue jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy boots, and rough/hoarse voice, this redneck had it all. Looked a bit familiar what with that red hair and that thick moustache.

"Hey, this is far from faggoty," Randy jumped up for the conflict. "This is a great man who's going to turn this country around! I'd appreciate it if you took your Zod-bashing somewhere else, like Texas!"

"And go to a place where Mexicans are takin' our jobs?" the redneck demanded.

From across the street, a man in overalls and a cap yelled, "They took ur jobs!" An elderly and more scraggly man added, "Derk e der!"

"Why don't you pack up and take your whiny, tree-hugging, liberal ass back to pansy California," the redneck continued, slapping a hand on Randy's table, jerking over his shoulder with his other hand, thumb jutted out.

"What, and live with sissy Californians who reelected their recalled governor? I don't think so!" Randy retorted. "Don't you know anything about Zod? He doesn't take nonsense from anybody so Washington gridlock is a thing of the past! This man is going to be different!"

"He hasn't even shown us his birth certificate!" the redneck snarled. "You can't trust a man to lead this country when he's not even born in it!"

"Oh, that's real mature," Randy snorted. "Birth certificates are so 2008 and 2012. You'd have to have, like, a sixth grade education to believe that."

"Don't you mock my sixth grade education!" the redneck bellowed.

"This is happening, this is actually happening," Stan bemoaned, eyes closed tight. If he couldn't see this embarrassment, then it didn't exist, right?

The back and forth between his father and the conservative redneck continued, causing many people walking by to stop and watch with fascination. Really, the above exchange between them could sum up everything that was said afterwards but eventually it all came to a head when his dad made a bold claim.

"He's going to do what Obama couldn't and make us some jobs!"

The redneck slammed his other hand on the table. "What did you say?" he demanded.

"I said he was going to make us some jobs!" Randy declared, slapping both of his hands on his table and leaning forward.

"You mean…he's going to…make us jobs?" the redneck said, slowly and carefully.

The man in the overalls and cap from before repeated, "Make us jobs?"

The older, scragglier man said, "Erk er der?"

"Yeah, that's right! He's going make some jobs around here!" Randy stated. "He's going to turn this economy around! You'll see! Everybody's going to have jobs!"

"You pulling my leg?" the redneck demanded but one could tell that he was slowly being won over…somehow.

"Like I would do that. That's so 2008 right there," Randy scoffed. "This is a new man for a new age and he's not the one we deserve. He's the one we need right now. So everybody! Vote for Zod, 2014!"

"Yeah!" the redneck exclaimed. "Vote for Zod if you're a true American!"

"Oh Jesus, no," Stan moaned.

* * *

Thousands of miles away, in a small city close to the east coast and sitting on the Potomac River, cloaked figures scurried about, deftly dodging staff members, lobbyists, and the occasional investigative journalist. They were secretive and almost skittish as they made their way to one of the many backrooms that existed within the capital building in Washington D.C.

There was a summons and it needed to be answered. Such things weren't done for nothing. Thus as everybody else went about their day as usual, these cloaked figures snuck about until they all congregated in a darkened room, absent of smoke for once. Good, this wouldn't be a typical backroom dealing.

Once cut off from the rest of the world, the cloaked figures felt safe enough to remove their hoods and expose their identities.

"Okay, who sent out the call?" the Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid demanded, Nancy Pelosi at his side looking stern.

"Don't look at me," the Speaker of the House John Boehner retorted defensively, also dressed in the same hood cloak as the two Democrats were. "I have a bunch of Tea Party representatives that need to be coddled and babysat. They can only go so long before their next temper tantrum."

"I take offense to that," Senator Ted Cruz spat out at the Speaker, conspicuously not wearing the hooded cloaks the rest of them were.

Harry Reid narrowed his eyes. "What is _he_ doing here? He's not even a member!"

"You try telling him no," Senator Mitch McConnell huffed.

"Enough of the cock fighting, who called this meeting?" Nancy Pelosi interrupted as she moved to take a seat in the darkened room's many chairs. "It's risky enough that we're doing this in broad daylight."

"It wasn't you?" John Boehner questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"No, it was me." One of the chairs spun around to reveal Senator John McCain whose swollen facial gland seemed to be growing however minutely by the day.

"Damn it McCain! What do you think you're doing?" Mitch McConnell demanded.

"You'll see in a few minutes," John McCain answered. "We need to wait for the others to show up."

"What is this?" Ted Cruz demanded, eyes narrowing. "Are you going behind my back again, McCain?"

"Seriously, why are you here?" McCain inquired. "You'd think after that shutdown fiasco you'd be quiet, like Gingrich. Speaking of which, Newt's running late."

The door opened again and more cloaked figures entered. As soon as the door was closed, they all removed their hoods to reveal more members of Congress, from, Chuck Schumer, Dianne Feinstein, and John Cornyn, to Eric Cantor, Darrell Issa, and Steny Hoyer.

The crowd was growing and all of them had only two questions in mind. One was who had called for them. The other was—

"What's _he_ doing here?" Dianne Feinstein demanded, glaring heatedly at Ted Cruz.

"Calm down, Dianne. He forced his way in from what I've heard," Harry Reid explained placatingly.

"It wasn't my fault!" John Boehner exclaimed, the waterworks beginning.

"Damn it, will someone get John a box of tissues?" Eric Cantor ordered.

Before anyone could comply, they had one more cloaked figure enter. "Sorry I'm late but Michelle was busy being a strong, independent woman," President Barack Obama said. "Also, Newt's not going to be able to make it. Having a little trouble with the fourth mistress."

"Can't that guy keep his dick in his pants? He's making us look bad!" Mitch McConnell snapped.

"I'm not done yet. Bill is doing his thing, we all know why the Georges aren't here, and Jimmy is somewhere in Panama or whatever place he's trying to do humanitarian work this time," Obama continued. "I don't think we're going to have anybody else show up."

"Very well, we can get started," John McCain said.

"I knew it! You're all in league with that liberal, socialist, Muslim foreigner!" Ted Cruz accused.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Obama asked, leveling a look at the Tea Party conservative.

"Making our lives hard, what else?" Dianne Feinstein muttered. Yeah, she was not over that gun control debate.

"Look people, I didn't call us all here just so we can chat. We have a serious problem," John McCain announced, taking control of the meeting. "As everyone here knows, there's a man trying to run for president during a non-presidential election. Normally I'd write him off as some lunatic but the thing is, the polls are showing that he could actually win."

Silence as the group of politicians stared at the Republican senator.

"Are you saying…that this General Zod could upset over two hundred years of tradition and win the presidency?" Nancy Pelosi summed up.

"You actually think the American people are that stupid?" John Cornyn asked incredulously.

"We all know how stupid the American people are," Harry Reid stated. "They keep voting us back into office. Except for the _freshman_ over there."

"Are you trying to start something Reid? Because I'll totally do another shutdown in January!" Ted Cruz threatened.

"Enough," Obama commanded. "This is indeed a very serious matter. Should this General Zod succeed, that will mean that future presidents, both Democrat and Republican, are at risk of being kicked out of the Oval Office…without being caught and nearly getting impeached because they got a blowjob from their interns and lied about it."

Naturally, only the males in the room were horrified by that prospect.

"This cannot be allowed!" Mitch McConnell thundered. "Every president there has ever been has always gotten blowjobs in the Oval Office from their interns and almost got caught doing so. Barack, how close have you gotten to being caught?"

"I'm not falling for that one. Don't ask, don't tell," Obama replied.

"Darn it," Eric Cantor muttered.

"Hey, I learned from Bill's mistake when he told Newt. You have to admit, Newt was being very uncool back then," Obama said defensively.

Okay, the sissy Democrat had a point. That had been low, even for Gingrich.

"So what are we going to do about this?" McCain steered the discussion back to the topic at hand. "How are we going to stop General Zod from being elected?"

"Well, we need to find some dirt on him. Something that'll make him totally unelectable," Harry Reid mused.

"Why not have him make some comment about rape and abortions? It worked on Mourdock and Akin," Nancy Pelosi suggested.

The Republicans in the room had to begrudgingly agree with that. All but one did but he was a _freshman_ so his opinion didn't count.

That didn't stop him from shoving it in other people's faces. "That's a stupid idea. Why not ask about his birth certificate?" Ted Cruz suggested.

"Don't you think that's getting old already?" Chuck Schumer complained. "You tried that tactic on Barack and it didn't work, even though he was _clearly_ born in Hawaii and he showed both forms. Can't you come up with something original?"

"Yes, like insulting his knowledge of the Constitution," Dianne Feinstein spat out.

"Guys, guys, calm down! We're all in this together," Obama tried to play peacemaker. "We need a game plan if we want to retain our positions of power in Washington. Zod is threatening it so we can't afford to let him win. We need a strategy, one that will not only destroy any chance this nut has of winning but remove him from politics altogether. Damn it, this guy is trying to take our jobs!"

"He's trying to take our jobs!"

"Take our jobs!

"Derk e der!"

"Der e der!"

"De do der!"

* * *

"…we tighten it a little here and…good to go Butters?"

Cartman took a step back and observed his work, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

"Well, gee Eric, I'm not sure about this," Butters answered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Don't move, Butters, this is very expensive equipment!" Cartman reprimanded. Said equipment resembled something made from Tinker Toys but the wires that sprang out, wrapped around the ten year old's body, and led to a small black, boxy panel was a sign that this thing was anything but a toy.

"What is this all for, Eric?" Butters asked, the blond-haired boy doing his best to remain still lest he disturb any of the important-looking wires wrapped around him.

"Butters, you and I are going to be making history," Cartman said. "With this stuff, I'm going to be measuring your brain and together, we're going to try and come up with a cure for aneurysms."

"Oh, well, I guess I can help out," Butters said though at this point his consent was a moot point. He was a total idiot but that's why Cartman liked using him. He was cheaper than renting lab rats and just as dumb too, let him tell you.

"Okay, let me turn this on," Cartman said as he flipped a switch on the small panel. Quickly his eyes snapped back to watch the bizarre headpiece which constituted the majority of the tinker toy look. Little lights that resembled Christmas lights flashed on and off in a dazzling display. It looked like everything was working. Looking at the small, boxy panel, he commented, "Everything looks to be in working order."

"So what are we going to do?" Butters asked, blinking innocent eyes curiously.

"It's simple Butters. I want you to have an aneurysm. Right now," Cartman directed. After a moment silence, "Anytime now, Butters."

"I can't have an aneurysm, Eric!" Butters protested. "My head will explode and my brains will go everywhere and then I'll get grounded!"

"Butters! This is for the good of humanity!" Cartman argued. "Haven't you seen the numbers? The rate of aneurysms is going up! If we can figure out a way to cure aneurysms, we'll be heroes and famous! Now have an aneurysm already!"

"Well, alright. Here I go." Butters closed his eyes and began to concentrated, his forehead wrinkling. A few groans came out of his mouth but as time passed, nothing happened.

"You can stop jerking around and have an aneurysm already," Cartman complained, glaring at Butters.

"Well I'm trying!" Butters protested.

"Try harder!" Cartman ordered.

Butters tried harder. No aneurysm.

"Goddamn it, Butters! Have an aneurysm already!" Cartman bellowed. "I won't let you screw this up for me, dipshit!"

"But having an aneurysm is hard!" Butters complained. "And I'm doing my best!"

"Your best isn't good enough!" Cartman spat. "You're screwing me over Butters. Should I get a barrel or something and take down my pants because you might as well be doing that to me!"

"I'm not screwing you over Eric! I'm doing the best I can. I'll do it harder, I promise!" Butters tried to soothe Cartman down.

"Oh, you'd better do it harder Butters because if you screw me over again…" he marched over and grabbed Butters by the front of his light blue, long-sleeved shirt, pulling him towards them until their faces were mere inches away from one another, "…I'll fucking murder you. You are not screwing me over again, you asshole." He then roughly pushed Butters back and stomped back over to the small, boxy panel. "Now try again."

Butters inhaled deeply and grunted as he tried to have an aneurysm again, his face starting to turn red from his exertions.

* * *

Author's Note: Is it just me or does the image of a bunch of Congressmen and Congresswomen behaving like those job-obsessed rednecks from the _Gooback_ episode sound hilarious? To make up for the poor attempt of a disclaimer earlier, I do not own President Barack Obama, Senator John McCain, Senator Harry Reid, Senator Mitch McConnell, Senator Ted Cruz, Senator Chuck Schumer, Senator Dianne Feinstein, Senator John Cornyn, Speaker John Boehner, Representative Nancy Pelosi, Representative Eric Cantor, Representative Darrell Issa, and Representative Steny Hoyer. There, hopefully that's enough to prevent me from being sued.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait. I was going to get this posted a few days ago but I lost some of the chapter and had to rewrite a large portion of it. The lesson to learn here today is to not trust your computer and save, save, save your files at least once a day if not several times a day. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park. Any public and political figures mentioned are fictional and their portrayals are done poorly, including the _Tonight Show_ and Jimmy Fallon.

Warning: language, death

Chapter Three

"Welcome back to the _Tonight Show_! I'm your host Jimmy Fallon and tonight we have a special guest for you!" the new host of the _Tonight Show_, Jimmy Fallon announced, the commercial break over. "Now I know why you guys are tuning in tonight. We have a guy who's been making waves all over the county. Some people are pissed off about it, others are not. Please welcome General Zod!"

As the band played, Zod stepped out onto the stage, hardly looking impressed at what was before him. There was applause, some boos as well, but none of it seemed to change the man's facial expression.

With a dead look, he glanced at the Jimmy Fallon creature who was clapping his heads like the best of them, starting to look around uncomfortably when Zod had not taken a seat, much less made a move towards his desk. Eventually, as his campaign manager had _recommended_, Zod marched his way to the "guest seat" but remained standing, refusing to sit.

He really saw no point to these inane Earthian rituals. He was only doing this because this is what depressingly normal Earthians did.

"Would you like to take a seat?" the Jimmy Fallon creature offered.

"Zod will take his seat when he feels like it," Zod stated, taking up an intimidating pose with his hands behind his back and feet parted.

"Okay…well, you've been in the news a lot, recently. Would you like to tell everybody why you are running for president?" the Jimmy Fallon creature asked.

"Because Zod desires a position of power, as he rightfully deserves." Was that not obvious by now? "Ruling you pathetic Earthians is the only position worthy of Zod."

"That seems to be a very ambitious thing you got in your head," the Jimmy Fallon creature commented. Zod turned his head just another to spare the Earthian a look. "Well, thank you for coming on the show," the Jimmy Fallon creature picked up when it became apparent that Zod was not going to say anything more. "Now, this is something that a lot of people are wondering about. What are you campaigning for? I mean, if you get elected, what are you going to be doing?"

"It is fairly simple," Zod stated, fixing his eyes on the unworthy studio audience. "There are going to be a lot of changes. The first will be that I will declare Zod to be President-for-life."

"That's a mighty bold claim," the Jimmy Fallon creature said.

"Zod does not make claims. Zod tells you how it's going to be," Zod said.

"Well…anything else?" the Jimmy Fallon creature asked.

"Yes. It has come to Zod's attention that there is this piece of parchment you Earthians are obsessed about. You call it the Bill of Rights. Zod has read through them and when elected, Zod will be making changes to them."

"You mean if you get elected," the Jimmy Fallon creature said.

"Are you correcting Zod?"

"Sorry, sorry, it's just you're…very confident," the Jimmy Fallon creature hurried to correct himself. "So what changes do you plan on making if—I mean, when you get elected?"

"Zod does not care about freedom of speech so you Earthians may keep it. If you say anything bad about Zod, you shall be executed immediately as an enemy against Zod. There will be no more freedom of religion. All religions on this planet will be destroyed. However, Zod will be generous and allow those who choose to worship to worship at the Church of Zod. There you may worship Zod and all his glory."

"What makes you think that people will allow that?" the Jimmy Fallon creature asked. "Don't you think a lot of people will be mad about that?"

"You dare to interrupt Zod?" Zod was looking back at the Jimmy Fallon creature. Not waiting for an answer, "It will not be a terrible transition. All you Earthian have to do is to take the Z in Zod and change it to a G."

"So if you change the Z in Zod into a G, that would make it God," the Jimmy Fallon creature said out loud.

Silence in the audience. Then, "I'd go to that church," a random audience member said.

"I have been hearing a lot about a second amendment," Zod continued. "You Earthians will be allowed to keep your weapons as they have no effect on Zod. Zod could care less if you kill each other one by one. It will make it easier to control you if there are less of you. The right to privacy will not be changed because you Earthians have already given it up to social media. All Zod has to do is go on your internet and Zod will know everything about you down to the second you perform elimination activities."

"Got a point there," the Jimmy Fallon creature commented.

"Zod does not need the Jimmy Fallon creature's commentary." A warning look was aimed at the Jimmy Fallon creature before the Kryptonian general continued. "Zod will allow the fifth amendment. You shall only be tried one time. That is all Zod needs to convict you anyway. The sixth amendment will be strengthened so that speedy trials become speedier. Zod was unable to understand the seventh so he skipped that one. The eighth amendment will be thrown out because criminals only understand cruel and unusual punishment. The Jimmy Fallon creature may now make his commentary."

"It sounds like you're going to be busy if—I mean, when you get elected," the Jimmy Fallon creature said. "Do you really think that the people of this nation are going to, you know, let you change the Bill of Rights?"

"It's not like they use them all," Zod said. He would've shrugged but that would have ruined his intimidating stance. Zod did not show weakness.

"Screw you! I use all my Bill of Rights sometimes!" someone from the audience yelled.

Zod was merciless in his reply. He fired his laser and another Earthian's head exploded. That would be the one hundred fifty-fourth time he had done that. Zod knew that was the number because he kept strict count.

"By God, another aneurysm," the Jimmy Fallon creature said.

"That was a Zod-induced aneurysm," Zod claimed. "All those who oppose Zod place themselves at risk for another Zod-induced aneurysm. Is there anyone else who wants to oppose Zod?"

The audience was completely silent.

"Zod figured as much," Zod stated.

* * *

"Get up Stan! We're going to be late!" Randy Marsh crashed into Stan's room that morning before rushing back out. _Christ what time was it_, Stan thought to himself as he blinked his eyes open, glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

What the…? It was eight o'clock in the morning! It was too early for his father's shit! And it wasn't a school day!

He closed his eyes and snuggled further into bed, hoping to get maybe a few more minutes of sleep.

How much time passed, he did not know, but the next thing he did know was that he was being dragged out of his bed and his Sunday clothes were thrust into his arms. "Hurry up Stan! We're going to miss everything! Gawd!" The world was rushing about him and the only thing that made sense was that he was in the bathtub, his father doing a crappy job of washing him.

Okay, now that really woke him up.

"Dad!" he exclaimed as he sputtered out water. His head was forced down as his father rubbed shampoo into his hair. He was quite a bit rough about it.

"No time, Stan, we're going to be late for church!" Randy exclaimed.

"But church doesn't start until eleven!" Stan protested.

"I know but we're not going to want to miss a minute of it!" Randy replied. "Now hold your breath, son."

"Hold my—" he was cut off as his head was forced under the water.

Now, if he wasn't completely awake before, he definitely was now. Coming up for air was so sweet for his lungs but he became alarmed when his father was reaching for the body wash. Oh no. No, no, no. Nuh uh, no way.

"I can do it," Stan stated as he snatched the body wash away before his dad could.

"Hurry up then! Breakfast is on the table and we need to leave, like, five minutes ago," Randy complained and Stan couldn't help but feel such hatred towards him. He had no idea what his dad's beef was this time but hopefully it wasn't as bad as having to walk up and down the sidewalk for his father's dumb support political thing.

Hopefully.

* * *

Hope was in short supply it seemed.

"You've got to be kidding me," Stan said. They were two hours early for church but…Stan didn't want to go in there. Yes, it was the same building that they always went to for church. There was just one problem. It wasn't the good, wholesome…okay maybe not completely wholesome, Catholic Church that he had been to all his life.

It was the Church of Zod.

Now this was just getting ridiculous. No more were there crosses or stained glass windows of various scenes from the Bible. Everything symbolic and Christian was now replaced with every conceivable image of Zod The stained glass windows were of Zod doing superhuman feats, the hymn books were all replaced with new hymn books that featured songs all about Zod, and the big cross with Jesus on it was now a golden statue of Zod.

Stan shuddered to think about what else was different. If the adults had gone to this extent…

"Do you see all this?" Randy praised. "This is going to be so awesome! Better than regular, boring church!"

"I'll admit, this is different," his mother, Sharon answered, also taking in the changes.

"God I hate this family," Shelly muttered, her usual untamed brown hair not styled conservatively.

"Shelly!" Randy reprimanded. "We do not say God in this holy sanctuary! We say Zod now. So say it again correctly."

"…Zod, I hate this family," Shelly muttered.

"That's better," Randy nodded.

"Dad, I think this is super wrong," Stan said. "What would God think about all this?"

"Well, Stanley, we don't have to worry about God anymore because the only thing to fear is Zod himself," Randy answered. "Now come on, we need to get some good seats!"

"Randy, we're the only people here," Sharon said. Indeed, what she said was true.

For a second, at least.

"I hope we're not too late," Craig's dad said as he entered the Church of Zod, the Tucker family in tow. He came to a stop as his eyes met with Randy's.

"Dibs on the front pew!" Randy called out and began running.

"Like hell!" Craig's dad swore as he gave chase.

"No, it's mine!"

"Suck it Marsh!"

"Screw you Tucker!"

Ooh, that was a vicious hit there. But Craig's dad was not down for the count. He tackled Randy and the two were wrestling on the floor like two overgrown children. Once again, Stan's hopes were dashed.

"I would rather to be anywhere else than here and with you," Craig said from beside him, watching the fight.

Stan couldn't blame him. Really, he couldn't.

* * *

Because of the fight, Randy didn't get his coveted front pew. Some asshole had taken advantage of the scuffle with Craig's dad and stolen it from under his nose. Then came the realization that there was a _second_ front pew and the fight started all over again. Take a wild guess what ended up happening.

Stan didn't have to look to know that his dad was pouting like a little kid. Someone else with some brains had stolen the second front pew so neither the Marshes or the Tuckers got the front pews. If only his dad wasn't so…wasn't so…what was the word? Kyle would know it, he was sure. Stupid wasn't the right word though his dad was so stupid it should be called a mental illness. Immature? Yeah, that was it! Stan was supposed to be the immature one; he was literally immature in every sense of the word.

Well, anyways, the church was packed for once. Stan was sure he hadn't seen most of these people before. Some were even standing, waiting to poach a seat anywhere they could. That sucked because now there would be no bathroom breaks.

Up at the front, Stan was surprised to see Father Maxi; the Father was known to be incredibly devout so of all the people in town, he was sure that Maxi wouldn't convert.

"Well this is quite a surprise. The church is filled for once," Father Maxi commented. "I bid you all welcome to the Church of Zod where we all take time out of our lives to devote it to the glory and the awesomeness that is Zod. We know not where he comes from, what he used to do, or even what he was like, but all here can agree that he is pretty damn awesome. Now I would like to read a passage from the holy book, the Book of Zod."

You have got to be kidding. There was already a holy book for this thing? This cult? No. No, you were pulling his leg. There could not be a book for this crap already.

The next thing he knew, a thick, leather-bound, black book was shoved into his hands by his father and there on the cover in gold lettering was "THE BOOK OF ZOD." How…how could something with this many pages exist already? He skimmed to the back and found, of all things, a picture of the author.

The eyes of Zod and that impassive expression of his peered right back at him.

…okay, how the hell had this asshole written something like this in that short amount of time? This was freaking ridiculous! What was he, some kind of real-life internet troll?

Up at the front, Maxi cleared his throat. "And he conquered the Vrangs, massacring the males, enslaving and sodomizing the females, and placing the children into forced labor camps," Maxi read aloud. "And Zod was pleased. Then he annihilated the Xan, turning their electromagnetic bodies into batteries to power the rise of the Kryptonian military. Zod was pleased and it was a good thing…"

Stan stifled a groan. This was so lame. Super lame. Incredibly, ultra lame. The adults in this town were idiots. That was the only explanation. They were idiots and they were going to lead the rest of them down into some kind of disaster from which they would not survive. And they were going to do it willingly, like a bunch of sheep. Figures.

Tuning out this twisted version of a mass, Stan looked around, taking in the figures of everybody in the church. Many he recognized but he couldn't help but wonder where everybody else had come from. It was a small town he lived in so he pretty much knew who everybody was so those he didn't recognize he knew they had to be from out of town. Regardless, everyone was all so rapt in listening that he was free to continue looking around.

His gaze soon looked behind the pew he and his family were sitting in and he had to do a double take at what he saw. No, no way. That couldn't be possible. Yet, there he was…

"Jesus?!" he hissed once he got over his shock.

Indeed, sitting in the pew right behind him was none other than their alleged Lord and Savior himself, Jesus fucking Christ. Yeah, Stan added the fucking part but still. The Messiah blinked his eyes, pulling himself out of Maxi's sermon and returned the ten year old's look.

"What are you doing here?" Stan whispered as softly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was attract any attention. Most likely it would be bad attention and his father would lead the charge himself.

"There is a good reason for this," Jesus answered, trying to excuse himself. "You see, myself and the rest of the Super Best Friends had our asses handed to us by Zod and well, if you can't beat them you join them."

"Zod beat the Super Best Friends?" Stan repeated, eyes widening somewhat in horror.

"I'm afraid so," Jesus nodded. "He's much too powerful for us. We're…we're all going to have to kneel before him else we suffer from aneurysms. Despite my ability to resurrect after three days, having my brains splatter everywhere is not my idea of a good time. It is best to run with the crowd this time. That's the best thing anyone can do."

Stan stared in horror at Jesus before turned back in his seat. There was no hope, was there? There really was no hope. If a group like the Super Best Friends couldn't stand up to Zod, then no one could.

Wasn't there anyone who could put a stop to all this?

* * *

"_Breaking news. I am here, live, at a Senate hearing called for by none other than Senator Ted Cruz. Senator Cruz has some questions that he wants to ask of presidential candidate General Zod and like he always does, he has thrown a hissy fit until he got his way. General Zod has reportedly agreed to attend the hearing and for some reason has been reported to say that he does not guarantee that he will answer any questions posed to him. Hold on, I'm getting word from our man on the inside that the hearing is starting. We now go live to see the proceedings."_

Standing before a table full of Earthian senators, Zod stood in what was becoming his trademark pose. Hands were behind his back and his legs were parted so there was space between his feet. He stared down at the pitiful Earthians with his usual look, not impressed by all the pomp and status that the insignificant creatures deemed to don themselves with.

At the focus of this farce was an Earthian male who did not have any white or graying hair and gave off a more youthful appearance. The Earthian had this sense of self-importance about him but Zod was not in the least intimidated. He had faced worse before. A Kryptonian councilman could inspire more intimidation than this inferior creature, this creature that was called Ted Cruz, whatever that was.

"Zod was told that he had to be here to answer some questions that you Earthians wish to be answered," Zod stated. "Zod is showing incredible patience by agreeing to this foolishness so speak your questions. Zod does not guarantee he will answer any of them."

The Ted Cruz creature shifted in his seat as he sat up and straightened his posture. "Yes, well, it seems to me that we should begin with our foundational document, with the Constitution. And the Constitution says that we will hold presidential elections every four years, which have been during leap years. The question I would pose to the presidential candidate is that would it be consistent for Congress to allow your bid for the presidency to be tolerated while there is already a presidential term in process?" the Ted Cruz creature finally got around to asking after mouthing off about some sort of health document. Really, he had trouble understanding these inferior creatures sometimes.

"Zod cares not for this document of health that you seem to hold in high regard," Zod stated. "All Zod cares about is obtaining the office of power for which he rightfully deserves and is most suited for. If you do not like it, you may direct your opinions elsewhere where they do not offend the air that Zod breathes."

There, that should adequately answer that question.

"Candidate Zod, I would ask yet another question. No one doubts your sincerity or your passion and at the same time I would note that the candidate chose not to answer the question that I asked, which is would it be consistent with the Constitution for Congress to allow someone to run for high office in the middle of currently-being-served term that is not yet close to ending?" the Ted Cruz creature asked, asking the same long-winded question but differently. That was a lot of words the Ted Cruz creature used to ask his simple question. And a waste of time in Zod's opinion which was the only opinion that counted.

"Zod believes he has already answered the question that you asked, Earthian," Zod said. "Zod does not care for this Constitution nor about what it says about term limits. Once elected, Zod shall not leave the office until he deems it time for him to step down and not a second before."

"Is it the candidate's view that Congress should look the other way and allow this campaign to continue even though it violates the Constitution?" the Ted Cruz creature kept pressing on.

"Congress may do whatever it wishes until Zod takes office in which there are going to be some changes, the least of which include you not annoying Zod with your pointless questions." Now Zod was feeling the irritation. This Ted Cruz creature was like a Zortark gnat; a creature with a buzz so grating it could drive a Kryptonian male insane! Not that Zod had any experience. "Now if you have any other questions, ask them now before Zod takes his leave or forever hold your peace."

"Can we get a look at your birth certificate?" the Ted Cruz creature asked after a few Earthian seconds.

Zod fired his lasers, striking the Ted Cruz's head and causing the body part to start swelling. The Ted Cruz creature made some interesting, high-pitched noises before his head exploded, sending pieces of brain, skull, and tissue onto the senators nearest to him.

"Does anyone else wish to inquire about Zod's birth certificate? If so, know you place yourself at risk for another Zod-induced aneurysm," Zod announced.

In the back, an Earthian senator raised his hand. An Earthian second later, there was another aneurysm.

"Anyone else?" Zod asked mildly.

"Nope."

"No."

"Who cares about a stupid birth certificate?"

Now that was more like it.

"If there are any more questions, ask them now. Zod has better places to be," Zod ordered.

There was some uncomfortable shifting among the Earthian senators but eventually one asked, "What's your stance on gun control?"

* * *

In a certain backroom in a certain capital building, various political figures gathered once again to discuss important matters at hand.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Dianne Feinstein grumbled. "It's about time someone shut that arrogant prick up once and for all."

…maybe not important matters but still, they were all gathered here.

"Not now Dianne," Harry Reid reprimanded. "Many of us here, all of us Democrats, may not have liked Cruz but it is still a blow to us nonetheless. This Zod is growing stronger by the day, no, the minute. We need to put a stop to him before it's too late."

"That's easy for you to say, _you_ don't have to worry about a vacancy," Eric Cantor spat.

"Actually I'm the one who should be saying that since I'm the _senator_ and you're a member of the House," Mitch McConnell corrected. "Fortunately, Cruz was from Texas so filling his spot with another Republican will be easy-peasy."

"I think we have more important matters than figuring out who is going to replace Cruz," Obama said. "We should have known this was going to happen anyway. I mean, who goes out there like that and directly challenges that upstart? There was no finesse, no subtlety, and more importantly no style. Indeed, Zod has become powerful enough that a congressional hearing can't stop him. We need to think of something better and do it fast or else he's going to take our jobs."

"Take our jobs!"

"Derk e derr!

"Dee do deeer!"

"Don't you Democrats have any ideas?" John McCain asked. "You're the ones who stand to lose the most right now."

"Who do you think we are? We aren't Republicans with a health care alternative," Nancy Pelosi snarked. "Wait, what was that? That's right, you Republicans never offered a health care alternative. You never had one."

"That's neither here nor there," Obama tried to intervene.

"I disagree, it is here and there," Mitch McConnell disagreed.

"What was that?" John McCain frowned, staring at his fellow senator.

"I have no idea, I was just disagreeing," Mitch McConnell shrugged.

"You fucktard, this isn't the time to be disagreeing!" John McCain reprimanded. "Don't you remember the song? United we stand, divided we fall? We can't be disagreeing just because it's part of our political DNA. If we keep pulling this shit, Zod's going to take our jobs!"

"He'll take our jobs!"

"Take our jobs!"

"Derk e derr!"

"Do de doo!"

"Well, we can be united. The Democrats just have to say that the Republican way is the right way and theirs will always be wrong," Eric Cantor said.

"How dare you!" Dianne Feinstein exploded.

"Knock it off, this is serious," Obama demanded. "We're the brightest in Washington. If we put our minds to it and work together, there's nothing we can't do. We just have to compromise—"

All Republicans began hissing, pulling out crosses and holding them in front of them as if trying to ward away evil.

"What's that all about?" Obama asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You said the word that should not be said," Mitch McConnell stated. "It is a word of sin that must never be spoken."

All the Democrats looked at one another. "You mean compromise—?"

More hissing, this time teeth bared.

"But isn't that what our nation is founded on?" Obama asked.

This time the Republicans shared looks with one another. "We have no idea what you're talking about," Eric Cantor said blankly. "Our nation was not founded on anything that had to do with the word that shall not be spoken."

"But what about the Bill of Rights?" Harry Reid asked.

"What are you talking about? That was always a part of the Constitution," Mitch McConnell scoffed. "It certainly isn't…that word that shall not be spoken."

"But what about the Connecticut Compromise—"

Again with the hissing and waving of crosses.

"Look, this is getting us nowhere," Harry Reid snapped. "Why don't we do what we always do when there's a political upstart that wants to do things in a way we don't like?"

"How about we don't?" Eric Cantor retorted.

"It involves guns," Harry Reid stated blandly.

"I know I'm listening," John Cornyn said.

Obama shared a look with John McCain. McCain merely nodded.

"I suppose there isn't any other choice," Obama sighed. "We're going to have to JFK this bastard. Cornyn, we're going to need to use Dallas again. You know the place. Can you get us hooked up?"

John Cornyn blinked but nodded in understanding.

"Are we sure about this?" Nancy Pelosi asked. "What if it fails?"

"Then we'll RFK him," Harry Reid said. "And if anybody here wants to filibuster, then we're going to use the nuclear option. No more mister nice guys."

"Agreed," Obama nodded. "We need to take this seriously because it's our livelihoods that are at stake. Zod must be stopped or else it will be end of _our_ American way of life." Holding up a hand, said hand balled into a fist, he yelled, "Kaplar!"

He was replied with by a resounding, "KAPLAR!"

* * *

Back home from church, Cartman led out a wide yawn as he trekked his way into the living room. He came to a stop where Butters still was, the brain measuring equipment still on him and the blond boy doing his best to give himself an aneurysm.

Seeing as how Butters still had his head, he hadn't had an aneurysm yet.

"Well?" Cartman thought he should ask.

"Not yet Eric, but I'm trying," Butters answered as he took in a deep breath of air, holding it as he closed his eyes and concentrated real hard. His face was red with exertion, his body trembling with tension, and yet his head would not explode.

"Butters," Cartman said after a moment. He waited for the other boy to give him his full, undivided attention before he continued speaking. "Do I look chafe to you?"

"What?" Butters blinked.

"Am I chafing? Because you've been jerking me like I'm your dick, you asshole!" Cartman thundered. "The least you could do is use some lube. That way it'll be more pleasurable. Let me see your hands; is there hair on your palms? Is your vision blurry? I only say this because you've doing a lot of jerking lately!"

"Gosh darn it, Eric! If you think having an aneurysm is easy, why don't you have one?" Butters snapped back.

"Because, Butters, I need to be alive to report the findings to the world," Cartman explained, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Besides, this is my idea and I should be the one who gets all the credit. I should be alive to make sure everyone knows the truth."

"But what about me?" Butters protested.

"What about you? All you've been doing is jerking yourself and screwing me over," Cartman retorted. "I saw a nice barrel on my way back here. Maybe I should go bring it here so that I can lean against it while you continue to screw me."

"I'm not screwing you Eric. I'm doing my best to do what you want me to do but it's harder than you think, gosh darn it!" Butters complained.

"Well you're not trying hard enough!" Cartman said. A knock at the door caused him to pause, stopping him from saying anything if only for a few seconds. "Mom! Someone's at the door!"

"Coming, poopsiekins," his lazy-ass mother said as she passed by the scene of him and Butters arguing without batting an eyelash. Christ, he was surrounded by lazy people. Did he have to be the one to do _everything_ around here?

Okay, now where was he? Oh right, bitching Butters out. Now where had he been before his mother forced him to lose his train of thought?

"Cartman, this is getting out of hand," Stan said as he came up from behind, Jew boy following after him while his mother passed by all of them to return to her place in the kitchen. Wait, it had been Stan and Kyle knocking on the door? He hated those guys! There was a pause before Stan asked, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Cartman snapped at the two gaywads. "I'm trying to uncover the mysteries of aneurysms and become super mega rich in the process. It's my idea so you guys can go away and do your usual hippie shit. I'm busy."

"Are those Tinker toys and Christmas lights?" Kyle asked after getting a good look at the contraption that Butters was wearing.

Several heartbeats passed as Cartman stood there, not answering. Then, "No."

"Whatever, we got to do something about Zod, guys," Stan said. "Things are getting way out of hand. My dad is being more retarded than usual, the church worships Zod instead of God which has to be really wrong somehow, and the Super Best Friends are not going to be any help whatsoever this time around. We need to do something before everything gets worse."

"I am doing something, Stan. I'm trying to find a way to save people's lives before they die of aneurysms," Cartman explained uncharacteristically patiently. "Someone has to figure out a way to keep people's heads from exploding and get super rich from it."

"Actually, an aneurysm is when a blood vessel swells due to weakness or damage, causing blood pressure to build up until it ruptures which leads to severe hemorrhaging and sometimes sudden death," Kyle said. "They can occur in the aorta artery or in the brain, symptoms of which include sudden headaches, nausea, vomiting, seizures, a stiff neck, light sensitivity, back and/or abdominal pain, and breathing and swallowing problems to name a few which depend entirely on where the aneurysm is. Aneurysms can be caused by natural weaknesses in the blood vessels, high cholesterol, arteriosclerosis, drug usage, or vasculitis."

"Well look at encyclopedia boy, no one cares," Cartman snarked.

"I looked that all up on the internet where that kind of information is literally at your fingertips. Anybody can use it at any time and there's no reason why you don't when you ought to," Kyle replied. "This isn't the days when you have to go to a library and physically look it all up; everything's digital so really, the excuse of 'I didn't know' is no longer an excuse anymore."

All the boys stared at Kyle for a second. "Where'd that all come from?" Stan asked.

"Eh, it's something that's been building up for a while," Kyle shrugged.

"Well, back to what's important, what are we going to do that's going to put an end to all this craziness before it gets worse?" Stan said more than asked. "I mean, let's face it guys, it's always up to us to do something when things like this happen. It's like some kind of law or something."

"But what could we possibly do? We're only kids," Kyle asked. "We couldn't do anything when we first saw Zod. And now he's on the national stage, running for president."

"That's your fault for telling him he needed to get elected, Kyle," Cartman stated. "You should have let him overthrow the fascist government we have; it would have been more fun."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," Stan intervened before an inevitable argument would have happened. Stop ruining his fun, hippie asshole. "All that matters is that we get our parents to stop acting like a bunch of retards and to do that we need to stop Zod. Does anybody know where he is or where he's going to be so we can try and do something?"

"He's on the road all the time," Kyle answered. "It's hard to know where he's going to be all the time. Besides, even if we did know where he was going to be, how are we going to get there?"

"Eric, I have such wonderful news!" his mother came back in and she was all smiles and rainbows. "I just got a call from your little friend's dad and we're heading over to Dallas to meet that wonderful man who's running for president. Apparently, he's going to be participating in a big debate that's going to be televised! Everyone from church is pitching in and I believe this is going to be a great opportunity for you to learn about our country's election process."

The boys shared looks with one another. "Well that was convenient," Cartman said.

"I bet my dad's behind this somehow," Stan sighed, shoulders slumping.

"Um, guys? Can I take this stuff off now?" Butters asked.

* * *

Author's Note: It's only a coincidence that the 50th anniversary of the John F. Kennedy assassination is taking place. This was just an idea I thought up of at the last minute and what do you know, it's the time of the year again. So if the mentions to JFK and his little brother RFK offend anybody, this is South Park. They've parodied the JFK assassination before. First season, second episode I believe. It's the episode where Cartman goes "beefcake" and Garrison tries to assassinate Kathie Lee Gifford, if anyone remembers who that is.


End file.
